Posted: June 2004
Author: Larien Elengasse

*****

Part 5

Winter, 505, First Age, Menegroth, Doriath

Oropher spent the day sequestered in his chambers, pouring over maps and trying to decide what to do when the Sons of Fëanor left Menegroth. Doriath was no longer safe and their number too few to ward off the evil that closed in around them.

Thranduil sat in a wide chair across from him, his fingertips softly stroking the fine feathers of a quill. "Adar?"

"Yes, Iôn?"

"We are leaving our home, are we not?"

"Yes, Iôn. It is no longer safe for us here. We risk attack from the Dark One's armies as well as the Dwarves. They have yet to retaliate for the slaughter of their kin."

"Where are we to go?"

"East. Over the mountains and into the old lands. Perhaps there we can find a safe haven from the Dark One's evil."

"Why do we run? Why must we give up our home? Should we not stay and fight?"

Oropher looked up at his son and answered, "With what, Thranduil? You, me, and a handful of elves old enough to fire a bow? What match are we against what comes down upon us?"

"But we could have allies, Adar. We could form alliances with the men that live in our forests, with the Laiquendi, with the Noldor…"

"Noldor? I would not fight with or for a Noldor if my own ruin were upon me, not after what they have done here. The Laiquendi are not interested in our wars, they prefer to hide in their forests. And the men… the men do not trust us, they think we have betrayed them, they are in league with the Sons of Fëanor. No. We have no other choice, we must go."

Thranduil looked at the floor and answered quietly, "Yes, Adar."

Oropher rose from his chair and rounded the desk. He took his son's chin in his hand and turned his gaze up to his own. "I am weary of war and fighting, Thranduil. I have fought nearly all my life. I have been near death four times since I was old enough to wield a sword and bow. I have lost my loved ones, lost my friends, and suffered enough. I would not have you live this same life. I want you to have a life of peace, not of war. Please, you must trust me now. I am doing all that I can for you and what is left of our people."

"I understand, Adar. But should we not try to find those that fled?"

"I fear if we do, the Sons of Fëanor will follow us and we will lead them to our kindred. No. They are safe from harm, I would not risk bringing more violence upon them."

"Of course," Thranduil answered. "You are right, as always, Adar. I mean no disrespect."

Oropher smiled sadly. "I know you do not. You are a good son, Thranduil. You have never disappointed me. Now go. Go for a walk in the woods, surely that is better than staying in this dank library with your weary father."

Thranduil smiled. "Yes, Adar." He turned as he stood in the doorway. "Adar?"

Oropher looked up at his son. "Yes, Thranduil?"

"Melin chen."

Oropher smiled. "Melin chen, Iôn."

He watched as his son left the library and turned down the corridor, making for the gardens.

* * * *

After spending the afternoon walking through the forest, Thranduil found Amras in the stable, seeing to the horses. He could see that they were preparing to depart. He knew the day would come when Amras would leave. While he was still young, he was not so naïve to think that he and a son of Fëanor would ever make a life together. The air was filled with the sweet smell of winter hay and the quiet, rhythmic sounds of horses chewing. Thranduil approached Amras and smiled as his lover turned to greet him.

"Thranduil…" Amras began, but he fell silent as his young lover flashed his most disarming smile.

"Are you finished for the day, Lord Amras?"

Thranduil's voice and words were formal, but the way he looked at him, the way he inclined his head spoke of an intimacy that they had successfully hidden from those around them.

"Aye. Would you care to walk through the woods? I have always enjoyed the forest at dusk."

Thranduil smiled. "I was hoping you would escort me to my chamber. I have much to talk with you about."

Amras nodded. "Lead the way, young master. I will follow."

Thranduil smiled and turned, departing the stable and making for his chamber.

* * * *

Amras walked behind his young lover, drinking in his beauty with his eyes, already missing him though they had yet to leave.

"Thranduil…"

"I know what you would say, Amras," Thranduil answered. "I need not hear it. I have eyes; I see what is happening. I would prefer we say our farewells without words." Thranduil arrived at his door and opened it, inviting the Noldo inside.

Amras stepped in close to his lover and caressed his face. "I have so much I wish to say, melethron."

Thranduil smiled and pressed his face into Amras' hand. "My wish for us this night is to make love, then spend the hours until dawn lying in one another's arms."

"I will give you all that you desire, ernilen," Amras answered softly. "For I share your wish. I want to have enough of you to keep with me the rest of my days."

"Ssshh…" Thranduil whispered. He took Amras' hand and led him to the bed. "Lie with me now. I do not want to think of tomorrow just yet."

Thranduil slowly undressed his Noldo lover, carefully folding his garments and hanging them over the back of a large chair. His hands softly caressed Amras' skin, running over his shoulders, arms, back, and chest. Amras returned the favor, removing Thranduil's garments with equal care until the two of them stood naked in front of one another.

Amras reached up and removed his prince's braids, threading his fingers through his fine golden hair until it spilled around his shoulders. Thranduil did the same, loosening the strap that held Amras' braid in place and running his fingers through the Noldo's dark hair. They held one another, kissing and caressing for several moments before mounting the bed. They lay in one another's arms, exploring, testing, teasing until each gasped in pleasure. Thranduil and Amras spent that last night making love, slowly, languorously, savoring one another until dawn.

* * * *

Flames flickered in the iron lanterns hanging in the empty hallways as Oropher made his way back to his chamber. He had spent the better part of the day going over what goods they had and seeing to preparations to leave the only home any of them had ever had. He was exhausted, yet he was agitated. His thoughts had drifted toward Maedhros more than once that day. The Noldo had been suspiciously absent since the previous morning, and Oropher wondered what he was up to.

He was so preoccupied that he nearly crashed into Maedhros as he rounded the corner.

"You are finally leaving us?" he asked, his voice cold and emotionless.

Maedhros studied him, gazing into his eyes as if he were trying to decipher some hidden secret. "You look much better than you did yesterday," he answered.

"I am," Oropher answered flatly. "You did not answer my question. Are you leaving this place?"

"We are," Maedhros answered.

"Off to continue your quest for that accursed jewel?"

"Of course. But I do not expect you to understand or approve."

"You did not ask my understanding or approval before you brought my home to ruin, Noldo. I would not expect you would be seeking it now."

"Though you may not believe it, Oropher, we did not come here seeking the destruction of your home. Had the king given us what is rightly ours, we would have left you in peace."

"You and your kin lost the damned jewel, Maedhros. And when you could not retrieve it yourself, it was Elu Thingol's daughter and a mortal man that accomplished what you could not. You lost your right and title to that cursed object when you could not take it back yourself."

"Do not tell me what is my right, Oropher!" Maedhros barked. "The Silmarils are of my father's making! No one has right or title to them except his heirs!"

"You are welcome to it, Noldo!" Oropher returned. "For neither I or my kindred wish to look upon it again. You will meet your end because of this Oath, Maedhros, and the world will be a better place when it and all of you are gone!"

Oropher wheeled off and continued down the corridor toward his bedchamber.

Maedhros stood where Oropher left him. He was filled with unexplainable rage; he clenched the fingers of his hand into a fist and slammed it into the stone wall. What did what one stubborn Sindar Lord thought matter to him? He was bound by the Oath, he did not answer to Oropher, nor should what Oropher thought be of concern to him. It was he and his brothers that had kept the lands of Beleriand safe from Morgoth's dark reign, the Sindar did not aid them, they preferred to stay behind the Girdle. Once the Girdle was gone, how quickly they fell.

"Stupid, arrogant elf!" Maedhros growled. He turned on his heel and pursued Oropher through the caves.

**

Melin chen = I love you
Melethron = my lover
Ernilen = my prince

---

Part 6

Winter, 505, First Age, Menegroth, Doriath

Oropher slammed the heavy oaken door shut as he paced the floor of his bedchamber.

"Damn that Noldo," he grumbled under his breath. "I cannot wait until he is gone from this place!"

He roughly unfastened his cloak and flung it upon a chair. He stood in front of the fire rubbing his hands together and grumbling under his breath as he tried to put the argument with Maedhros out of his mind.

When his door flew open and banged against the wall, he turned to find Maedhros standing in his doorway. For a brief moment, he wondered if what he saw before him was what Maedhros' victims saw before they died; never had he seen a more fearsome elf. He instinctively reached for his sword when Maedhros slammed the door shut and crossed the room in three long strides, catching the blade with his left hand that was wrapped in his cloak, and shoving Oropher off balance with his right arm.

"You wish to spill my blood, Sinda? You would not be the first," Maedhros growled.

Oropher grunted as his back impacted the wall and he heard his sword clatter to the ground. "What right do you have to come here and do this?" Oropher barked in return.

"Right?" Maedhros answered with a low growl. "A damned soul has no rights, nor does it worry about judgement. My judgement is already upon me, Oropher. I have nothing to lose. What is the point of being afraid when your worst nightmare is bound to happen?"

He leaned in and held Oropher's lean frame pinned against the wall with his own larger one. He held Oropher's right arm against the wall and sneered as the Sinda grabbed his throat with his left hand. Despite the pressure that Oropher placed on his windpipe he ground out, "Go ahead, Oropher. Kill me, I know that is what you want. Frankly, death would be a relief from this torment. I should have fallen a long time ago."

Maedhros' face was but an inch from his own, his hot breath fanned over his lips, his gray eyes as dark as storm clouds. Oropher's heart hammered in his chest, it was clear Maedhros was not there to harm him, for if that was what he wanted, he could have run him through with his own sword. What Maedhros wanted from him was unclear. But in that heated moment, what he wanted from Maedhros became abundantly clear.

In the blink of an eye, his hand moved from Maedhros' throat to the back of his neck, and Oropher crushed the Noldo's mouth against his own. The deep growling moan that issued from Maedhros lit a fire inside him that he thought died long ago. Many years had passed since he handled one thusly, for such roughness was not fitting for his beautiful wife. He plundered Maedhros' mouth with his tongue, leaving no space untouched. When the Noldo's tongue curled around his own, he moaned wantonly, giving up dominance to Maedhros.

Maedhros pressed forward, into Oropher's mouth, tasting him with equal fervor as his left hand slid down the Sinda's arm to his chest. He drank deeply of Oropher's addictive, spicy taste; the Sinda's moans echoing in his ears. When they broke their kiss, they both gasped for air and gazed into one another's eyes.

"What are you doing to me?" Oropher whispered. "Do you bewitch me?"

Maedhros reached for Oropher, his hand sliding through the Sinda's golden hair to come to rest upon his neck. "I fear it is you that have bewitched me, pen-vain," he answered. "I am unable to resist you."

"We should not be doing this," Oropher answered. "You are my enemy."

"Nay, not enemy. Say not enemy," Maedhros replied. "We are but two tired warriors, seeking solace in one another's arms."

"Is that what this is?" Oropher asked breathlessly, "For I no longer know what I do."

Maedhros whispered, "Nor do I, maethoren valthen." He then covered Oropher's mouth in a bruising kiss as he leaned into him, pressing the length of his body to that of his foe.

Oropher moaned into the kiss, his healing body awakening, fire lighting in his core. Maedhros' tongue slid inside his mouth with practiced skill, sweeping through it and drinking deeply of all that Oropher had to offer.

Something drew Oropher to this mysterious, long suffering elf; something inside Maedhros had worked its way under his skin, and he was now possessed with one overwhelming desire, to savor and enjoy the auburn-haired beauty in his arms.

He reached up and tangled his fingers in the length of flame red hair that spilled around Maedhros' face. As Maedhros released his mouth, he whispered, "Your hair is frightful, Maedhros."

A wry grin curved Maedhros' lips as Oropher reached up, deftly untying his braids and combing through his hair with his fingers.

Oropher's hand stilled in Maedhros hair and without his bidding, it traveled to his ear. He watched as Maedhros' eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted, a soft sigh escaping them. A quiet gasp escaped Oropher as he felt Maedhros' hand slide around the back of his neck, and he did not resist as the eldest son of Fëanor pulled him forward for another kiss.

A quiet moan escaped him as Maedhros' lips pressed against his own. He leaned forward, pressing his body against him, drinking his fill from his most bitter enemy. He plundered the depths of Maedhros' mouth, his hands alternately caressing and clutching, his lips bruising those beneath them. He pulled away from Maedhros' mouth and leaned back, his fingers quickly unfastening the clasps that held the Noldo's tunic closed.

"Too many garments," he growled. "I want to taste you and feel your flesh in my hands."

Maedhros moaned and arched beneath Oropher's hands, his left hand clutching at the Sinda's buttocks as he felt his tunic peeled away from his body. It had been many years since another had touched him this way, many years since he had allowed such an indulgence. Why he did so now was a mystery to him, but he knew that in that moment, he wanted Oropher as he had wanted no other since his torment on Thangorodrim.

Oropher grasped Maedhros by the forearms and pushed him back away from the wall. He pulled the tunic from the Noldo's body, exposing his alabaster skin. Pale lines cris-crossed his otherwise flawless flesh, faded reminders of the cruel torment he had suffered at the hands of the Dark One. Elves healed quickly, this was known to all, but the wounds inflicted upon Maedhros had been so horrible that old reminders were still evident.

His fingers danced over the pale lines that formed a map of barbaric torture. "Scarred from within and without," Oropher whispered. He looked into Maedhros' dark, gray eyes and caressed his lips with his fingers. "Never hide who you are, Maedhros," he said softly. "Wear these scars with pride, for you have endured what would have killed another. These scars are evidence of your strength."

His hand slid down Maedhros' right arm, coming to rest upon the leather wrapped stump of his wrist. "I want to see it," Oropher whispered. "Let me touch it, Maedhros."

"Why?" Maedhros asked, "Why would you want to look upon so horrible a thing?"

"Because it is part of who you are. I would have no part hidden from me."

Oropher slowly unfastened the buckle that held the leather in place, gently unwrapping it and exposing it to his view. He swallowed as he looked upon it; the flesh had healed but Fingon had not had the luxury of removing the hand cleanly, and what was left was a maze of scars and roughly healed flesh. Oropher had seen many atrocities in his life; war seemed to be too much a part of him. But even after all he had seen, looking upon this wound caused his heart to ache. He wondered if he would have had the courage to do what Fingon did, or if he would have heeded Maedhros' call and brought an end to so strong an elf.

Maedhros let out a shuddering sigh as Oropher caressed his wounded arm. No one had touched it in years, not even himself. He turned his gaze to Oropher's and watched in frightened shock as the Sinda caressed his mangled flesh with his lips, bestowing gentle, soft kisses to his wounded arm.

"Oropher…" he whispered.

"Touch me, Maedhros," Oropher answered softly. "Do not be afraid. Touch me with it."

"I cannot," Maedhros answered. "To foul something as beautiful as you with something so…"

Oropher's voice took on a stronger tone. "Touch me, Maedhros. I want you to touch me with it."

Maedhros reached up and ran the stump of his right wrist across Oropher's cheek, watching the Sinda's eyes flutter shut and his lips part, watching the slow working of his throat as he swallowed. In all his long life, it was the single most intimate and erotic act he had ever taken part in. Oropher showed no fear, no revulsion. As his hand and his blunt wrist caressed and touched the Sinda warrior, he watched Oropher respond. He watched his breathing increase, felt the evidence of his desire pressing into his groin.

"I want you, Oropher," Maedhros whispered. "You have awoken feelings in me I had feared dead."

Oropher leaned forward, his lips ghosting across Maedhros' own as he answered, "Then you shall have what you want, Maedhros."

He pressed Maedhros back toward the bed; his lips exploring his ears, neck, and chest as his fingers worked the tie to his leggings. "All of you," he whispered huskily, "I want to see all of you."

Maedhros moaned quietly as he allowed Oropher to slide his leggings past his hips and off his legs. He kicked off his boots and stepped out of his leggings as Oropher guided him toward the bed, hungrily consuming his chest as his hands roamed freely over his body. Maedhros worked the clasps on Oropher's robe, sliding it off his shoulders and leaving the Sinda naked before him.

Oropher kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his robe as he pulled Maedhros onto the bed and rolled over him. Maedhros draped his legs over Oropher's as he arched beneath him, his eyes fluttering shut as Oropher worked his taut nipple with his skillful mouth. He worked his way lower, following the contour of Maedhros' stomach, chasing it as it flinched away. Maedhros' moans and whispers were driving him onward, burning him inside. Theirs was to be no gentle seduction, no sweet love making amongst perfumed sheets and soft candlelight. What drove both of them was carnal desire, an aching want and suffocating need. They were hardened warriors: soldiers first, lovers second. For them to woo as others did would be foolish. This was not about the wooing of hearts; this was about the quenching of lust.

Maedhros groaned as Oropher's lips caressed his swelling length, and he reflexively rolled his hips forward. He grunted as Oropher pinned them down to the bed, continuing to torment him in a leisurely fashion, drawing his tongue along his length before moving lower. As Oropher took the soft pouch of skin in his mouth, Maedhros hissed and spread his legs further apart, feeling the pad of Oropher's finger massage his entrance.

"You would take me now, if I allowed it," Maedhros whispered huskily.

"I may take you whether you allow it or not," Oropher responded with a low growl.

Maedhros laughed, it was a low, husky sound that caused Oropher's length to swell and twitch. "You are but recently healed, a long drawn out struggle would not be good for you, Oropher."

This time it was Oropher who laughed, a smooth, sultry laugh that caused Maedhros to groan in spite of himself. "So kind of you to be concerned for my well being, Maedhros." His finger slid inside the Noldo's body causing Maedhros to gasp in surprise. "Have no fear, I will handle you well."

"Of that… I have no doubt," Maedhros ground out from behind clenched teeth. As Oropher slowly rotated his finger, and slowly licked and stroked his over heated length, Maedhros arched beneath him, his moans becoming more wanton, his body slowly relaxing to the invasion. He groaned in frustration as Oropher's skilled mouth left his pulsating length.

"Do not move, Maedhros," Oropher whispered against his lips. "I will return in the blink of an eye."

Oropher quickly crossed the room to his private bathing chamber, returning with a small phial of sweet almond oil used to soothe aches and pains from battle. He mounted the bed, thoroughly coating his fingers and his arousal with the oil, before placing it on the floor and returning to his task with relish.

"Ah, Gods!" Maedhros groaned, as Oropher's slick fingers slid inside his tight body. Oropher quickly swallowed his cries as he consumed his mouth, thoroughly tasting of him before withdrawing.

"Your mouth is addictive, mellonen," Oropher whispered against his lips. "I could taste it for all of eternity."

"It is taking eternity for you to do this, Oropher," Maedhros growled.

Oropher laughed again, tugging at Maedhros' lower lip with his teeth as he pulled away. "I shall make you wait no further then."

He gathered Maedhros thighs in his arms as the Noldo lifted his hips slightly. A deep groan issued from Oropher as he slowly entered his bedmate's body, pushing deep inside without pause until he was buried to the root.

Maedhros breathed deeply, willing his body to relax, concentrating on his own breathing and the soft strokes of Oropher's hand upon his stomach. As he slowly began to relax, he felt Oropher begin to move inside him as he stroked his arousal in his hand. Maedhros wadded the sheets in his fist as he arched into Oropher, moving with him, feeling the Sinda's length fill him and withdraw. Too long had it been since he had known the pleasures of the flesh, and shortly after it began, he felt his body tighten almost painfully as his release came. Oropher thrust deep, moaning as he spilled himself deep inside.

Oropher leaned forward, resting his head upon Maedhros' chest, his own heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest, slowing with his breathing, and he began to melt into Maedhros' arms.

Maedhros cradled Oropher against his chest as he felt the Sinda slip from his body. His eyes fluttered shut as he reveled in the aftermath of his climax, letting the warmth settle deep into his bones, a smile slowly curving his lips as they both drifted into reverie.

**

Pen-vain = beautiful one
Maethoren valthen = my golden warrior

---

Part 7

Winter, 505, First Age, Menegroth, Doriath

Maedhros took a deep breath as he woke from reverie; he turned and looked at Oropher, who was sleeping peacefully beside him. A sad smile curved his lips as he tucked a strand of golden hair behind a pointed ear. He wondered what could have been between them had things been different. Oropher was much like himself before the Oath and his torment, and he imagined they would have been great friends, even lovers had they met in Valinor.

He carefully rose from the bed, pulling on his leggings and sitting on the edge of the bed as he pulled on his boots. A small gasp escaped him as Oropher's arms encircled his chest and his bewitchingly soft lips caressed his neck.

"I am not one for poetry, Maedhros," Oropher said softly. "I am confused by what happened last night, and I am confused by what is in my heart this morning. I want to hate you, I have tried to do so, but I fear I am unable."

Maedhros placed his left hand upon Oropher's arm. "I am truly sorry for the destruction we brought here. I am sorry I am not strong enough to turn my back on the Oath."

"No," Oropher whispered. "Do not be sorry for who you are, Maedhros. Life is rarely simple, you and I are evidence of that." He sighed then continued, "Perhaps, one day, you and I will see each other again, in a life different from this one. Perhaps there we can be friends, if not more."

"Perhaps," Maedhros replied. He reached for his tunic and the leather casing for his wrist.

"Let me," Oropher said quietly. He shifted upon the bed and wrapped the leather around Maedhros' wrist, buckling it closed before helping him with his tunic. He rose from the bed, retrieving his hairbrush and attending to Maedhros' hair as the Noldo fastened the clasps on his tunic. Maedhros fought back tears of gratitude as Oropher skillfully braided his hair, smoothing it and arranging it in a warrior's fashion. "There, that is far more fitting an elf of your stature."

Maedhros smiled and nodded. "Hannon le, mellonen," he said quietly.

Oropher nodded in return and watched the eldest son of Fëanor depart his bedchamber. He fell back into the bed, sighing heavily as he stared at the ceiling, recent days' events swirling in his mind.

* * * *

Thranduil blinked back from reverie, he was alone in his bed, clutching the pillow that Amras had laid on. They had agreed not to say long, drawn out good byes, so when he awoke, Amras had already risen, dressed, and left his chamber. He took a deep breath and slowly sat up. They would be departing this place in but a few days time, and he had many preparations to make before the time came.

Amras and his brothers were leaving that morning; it would not be proper for him to say good bye as he wished, not to those who had conquered his home. So instead, he would stand beside his father, showing no emotion, as he watched his first lover ride away. He was not in love with Amras, but he found that he cared for him, and he imagined, had things been different, that he could have loved him indeed.

He rose from his bed and donned his tunic and leggings before carefully braiding his hair. He walked slowly from his room to his father's bedchamber to receive instructions as to his role in the preparations.

So much had happened in so little time. His home had been destroyed, his mother fallen, his father wounded, and his innocence given away. He was no longer the naïve, young son of an elf lord. He was a prince, a warrior having fought his first battle, a lover, and he was now to help lead what was left of their people into strange lands. He looked upon his future with a nervous excitement, and worried about his ability to make his father proud.

* * * *

Oropher stood beside Thranduil at the entrance to the caves. He and his son watched the Sons of Fëanor ride away into the forest. A new life was beginning for them, and the road to it was filled with peril. The journey east would not be an easy one, but then starting over never was easy. Even with the hard times that lie ahead for them, he knew in his heart that all would work out as it should. He also knew that of the two of them, he had the far easier job than Maedhros. He knew his enemy become friend would never be free, not as long as he lived. Only death would bring freedom to Maedhros, and as strange as it seemed, Oropher prayed for that.

Thranduil smiled gently as he bowed his head to Amras. He found he did not care if anyone saw it, he was saying good bye to his friend. He knew in his heart he would never see him again, but he prayed that Amras met a good end, and would find peace in his next life.

Amras smiled at Thranduil as his horse turned to gallop after the others. He whispered, ‘Poicaquen', as he cast his last look at the young Sinda that had stolen his heart. He was gone in a flash of hooves as his horse surged to the front of the line and he took up the lead.

Maedhros glanced once back over his shoulder as they rode into the forest, and as he gazed at Oropher, he swore he saw the Sinda's hand over his heart. He brought his right wrist to his heart and bowed his head before turning and disappearing into the mist.

---

Epilogue

The Sons of Fëanor pursued the Silmarils to their own destruction. Of the seven sons, none survived save Maglor. Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir fell in the battle at Doriath, Amrod and Amras fell at the Havens of Sirion seeking to retrieve the Silmaril from Elwing. Maedhros and Maglor made one last attempt to take back the remaining two Silmarils from the Valar themselves after Morgoth had been vanquished in the War of Wrath. However, because of the fell deeds they had done, neither brother was able to hold them. Maglor cast his into the sea and was said to wander the world singing a lament for his fell deeds in his life. Maedhros, unable to bear the torment, cast both the jewel and himself into a fiery fissure, bringing about his own destruction and that of his father's creation.

Oropher and Thranduil traveled into the east to found the realm of Greenwood the Great. Oropher survived until the end of the Second Age when he fell in battle in the Dead Marshes during the Last Alliance. Thranduil fought in many battles, not least among them The Last Alliance and the Battle of Five Armies. He sired a son, Legolas, who did deeds of bravery and courage during the War of the Ring. Thranduil survived well into the Fourth Age, and what became of him after that is unknown. However, I like to think that he sailed into the west to live a life of peace, and perhaps, there he saw Amras once again.

previous | Chapter Index |

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Larien Elengasse